


end of the year, not end of the world

by ClaudiaFekete



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 2018 percyjackson-secretsanta, Angest, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, If I ever developed it into a series you would see the last tag used, Mortal War AU, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 22:55:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaFekete/pseuds/ClaudiaFekete
Summary: It started with the idea of one sentence: It’s end of the year, not end of the world, wise girl....Or, an AU where they went through a war among human beings. Those who lives try their best to keep living.





	end of the year, not end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it is a gift for @notalotgoingonatthisinstant on tumblr. @percyjackson-secretsanta event, you know? Instead of writing a coherent 1000 we get 1817 words of rambling here.  
> and yes, I use a tumblr meme. I'll dig up the sources later.

  
The sound of waves wakes her up. Annabeth opens her eyes. Blue curtain is half closed, like how she have left it last night. It wasn’t like anyone in the house would be awake earlier than her. Everything is arranged, safe.

  
(Things have been in order and safe for the last twenty years. It shouldn’t be any different.)

  
She closes her eyes again. Water splashes against rocks, smashing them, caressing. The sea is in a good mood today. She can see all the grey and white dancing in sapphire, bubbles no larger than tip of a pencil popping here and there, up and down the surface. Sunlight scatters around, leaving white dots like glass (Not able to sliced up a cut, though. The sea does not demonstrate its will as a knife). It must be beautiful. A good day for a walk near the beach or underwater activities – if she hasn’t become so old, vulnerable to cold. She was forced to change her bed cause the mattress had stiffened through the years. Or has she born too much burden in life that she craves tenderness to an unreasonable point?

  
Funny. Annabeth, unreasonable. Percy wouldn’t be the one putting those two words together. Piper might. Slowly she pulls the cover over and got out of bed. The sound of waves doesn’t stop when she makes her way to the bathroom.

  
(There is always something small to remind you of the person you love even when they are far away from you.)

 

 

 

 

There are times when she wonders how the war started.

  
It’s not like she had spent all her time calculating everything happened before their lives descend into chaos again. Sure, there is always time when you dropped out of your daily routine, caught by a flash of memory far away or long ago. Annabeth doesn’t like to let loose of her thoughts when it’s not required or disturbing other things. She had enough bad memories to deal with: spiders, the night Thalia died, the second Titan war. Living with ADHD is both a blessing and a curse for someone who wants to spend their time reading and contemplating. She doesn’t need more thing to distract her besides constant noise of traffic or fights (depending on whether she was in Camp or home with her mortal family) and Percy’s loud rambling (Sometimes she welcomes this, though. More than she’d want to admit). After their fall to the depth of hell, she definitely doesn’t keep her arms open for anything that’s threatening to erode her conscious. (They have nightmares, Percy and her. It’s bad enough they have to render their night, doing their best to escaped where they’ve fled again and again). Still sometimes, she couldn’t help thinking what has happened in her life. Especially the war that changed all their lives.

  
The weird thing was, before the first bomb dropped, she didn’t think things would go so wrong. Sure, she was aware that some Asian countries were putting a rather aggressive tone for practically nothing, that they must be up to something. The problem was they had been overreacting over anything for such a long time, people had gotten used to it.

  
(She had gotten used to it. Stupid. Didn’t Nazi Germany teach them all some lesson?)

 

 

 

  
  
Kitchen is a place where light is the loveliest of all. Soft beige, a color she somehow has gotten addicted to in her years of living. The wooden table standing near the bench is their wedding gift from Hazel and Nico. Of everything that have survived the war and stay with her when she moved south, Annabeth treasures this one the most. It’s in a rich shade of brown, swirling lines cover every corner of the surface. If she has to way what she likes the most of this table, it would be modesty. Run your fingers through tiny creeks of it. No doubt time has transformed it into a less dazzling, less clearly defined piece of work. Does it make it less appealing to heart? Fleeting days don’t always do bad things. Look at Piper, her wrinkles didn’t make her plain like so many claimed what years bring to you. If anything, she was more beautiful with them. Sure, she had been beautiful when she was in her youth – don’t misunderstand her, she isn’t just talking about something like charming lipsticks or eyeliner. Annabeth is talking about the kind of aura she gives. The moment you cast your eyes on the girl, it’s impossible not being overwhelmed by the love she shows for her friends. She can fight and she would fight, with words or with weapon, to defend those she cares. Her eyes glitter much brighter on her aging face when catches cracks in her enemies’ armor. Skills of the warrior only improves with battles they have fought. Piper is well experienced by now. (So is Annabeth. She just couldn’t pull off the kind of grace Piper has)

  
(Jason is in Elysium. Luke chose rebirth. They don’t know where Will and Lou Ellen are because Nico was dead when - )

  
“I don’t think you like burned eggs that much, Annie.”

  
“You have come earlier than I’ve expected.” She turned off the stove, cheeks slightly pink.

  
Piper laughs.

  
“Good to see you too. Mind if I borrow your kitchen?”

 

 

 

 

They didn’t even have time to discuss fighting in the war or not.

  
Percy and her didn’t argue about who going to the war and who staying behind to watch the children. Both of them knew as long as he stayed close to sea, he would do fine. The most possible one to survive. It rained the day troops departed, deafening roar people wishing their love ones luck filled the air. Annabeth opened the blue dotted umbrella, walked out of the station. Her daughter clutched to her tightly without a word. Annabeth knew she was crying silently, black hair shaking in an unnatural rhyme. She wanted so much to bent down and told her everything was going to be alright. She wanted to on that black damp street. She made no move under the grey sky pouring water. For a second Annabeth wished so much that Percy was with them. How was she going to deal with this all alone? She was strong enough to make it by herself. But how?

  
Her friends made their choices. Nico went to the front line with Will, Leo and Calypso had a fight over who was going, Reyna didn’t hesitate to sign up.

  
Then it was waiting. Time full of rumors. People said things was going downhill. Their enemies were underestimated.

  
Of everyone she knew, the first to lose contact was Leo.

 

 

 

 

“Have you, especially after getting old, had illusion from time to time that someone you deeply cared was just beside you, where they couldn’t be?”

  
Annabeth sips her tea silently, and nods.

  
“Good to know I’m not the only one going insane.” Piper pauses for a moment, as if she was holding back something. “It used to be Leo, or Nico, or he with his husband. But now when I am alone, I can see the door in front of me pulled open, white light flashes. And there, Jason just stands there, safe, intact.”

“And I could hear Percy speaking my name. Annabeth, wise girl, princess.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “I could hear his voice. After so many years I could still hear his voice, Pipe.”

 

 

 

 

After so many years, Annabeth could still remember the last word Percy said to her. He had shouted it on the train, over the screams and roars of people surrounding them. “I want to have blue cake when I get back!”

  
She also remembers the mail. Their words tearing her already crumpling world. “We are sorry to inform you that… has gone missing.”

  
She could never, ever forget the day Hazel delivered her words like a dam breaking. “They know magic too, Annabeth! How do you assume they caught Frank the other way around?” All her walls had torn down. The one sentence her friend was implying, the one that hadn’t been out loud but stand more visible than a lightning: how can Percy be still alive if it’s not a normal attack?

  
Annabeth spent many years waiting. It was as well as wishing gods would suddenly value human lives as much as theirs. She kept waiting nevertheless. Their department in New York was destroyed. War ravaged in the country they’d lived since their first breaths. Their daughter caught a flu and almost didn’t make it. She and her daughter were forced to run south. The war ended. They stayed south.

  
She burned the first blue cake a year after the war.

 

 

 

 

 

“You know it’s different.” Piper is speaking gently, hand resting on her shoulder. (How could loss be different? How can you tell that this beetle thinks differently than another? How can you assert one’s grief and state it’s different from everyone else’s?)

“The feeling of pain stays.” (Maybe she is talking about another thing. There isn’t an adequate word for what she is expressing. Not a word serves right to tongue.)

(Is she crying? Why should she be crying? It’s Christmas isn’t it? She is alive and with her friend, why is she crying as if there was an iceberg melting inside her?)

Sound of the waves. Sound of the front door opening.

She is greeted with a bone crashing hug. Familiar scent of salt, of morning breeze engulfs her. “Hey.” Annabeth chokes.

She could speak no more.

 

 

 

 

Three years. Annabeth had accepted her fate as a widow, doing her best to survive for three years when one day, her cousin Magnus visited. He was accompanied by someone.

Through her watering eyes, she could see Hearthstone having a silent conversation with Piper, their hands flying in elegance. She catches one or two words like “past” and “tear”. She buries her face deeper, weeping silently.

After a while, Annabeth pulls away from the hug, giving a reassuring smile. The man’s eyes glitter. “Everything’s good?” Percy signs slowly.

 

 

 

 

For a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. (It’s way too childish, how she cried over the memory of losing him. Memory, for gods’ sake.)

(The older she becomes, the better she knows that when you lose someone, you’ve probably lost them for good than have them returned with an injured vocal cord.)

The sound of waves clashing against stones fills the room. It’s a beautiful day. A good day for lying in bed reading your favorite novels or watching movies. A good day to remember all the wonders you’ve had even if they’re lost. A good day for doing nothing but having times with those you’ve saved a place in heart. (After all it’s Christmas.) Annabeth lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Of course everything is good, seaweed brain.”

**Author's Note:**

> guys, you really read this fic through? seriously?  
> Mind leaving comment whether you think it's good or bad?


End file.
